Chemical X
by Kadyn
Summary: It might be the key ingredient to creating the powerpuff girls; but Chemical X has other amazing powers as well; like getting our two favorite contaminated Fringlets locked up together in a CDC containment bunker.   Lnz this one is for you!
1. Chapter 1

Chemical X

Disclaimer: I do not own, with much regret, the agents which this story portrays; which is why I can allow them to get a bit frisky, creative license is truly a wonderful thing!

Summary: It might be the key ingredient to creating the powerpuff girls; but Chemical X has other amazing powers as well; like getting our two favorite contaminated Fringlets locked up together in a CDC containment bunker. PWP? Lnz this one is for you!

This stories chapters were titled in the style of Arthur Gail Carriger, who never fails to crack me up with her witty labels and writing style.

As always feedback is appreciated, good and bad; let me know if I've succeeded in scratching that itch and I'm apt to do it again!

**Chapter One**

_In which our dashing agents get exposed; _

_In more ways than one._

In hindsight it was probably not the best idea, in fact it wasn't something that even resembled a good idea at all, it was a very, very bad idea the results of which Olivia was certain she would never live down.

And if Olivia had known in advance how the night's events would unfold into the debacle she now found herself entangled in she undoubtedly would have stayed home and hidden under her bed instead of answering that phone call.

Fortunately for us, Foresight, or Premonition was not one of Olivia's Cortexiphan induced gifts.

Coupled with the fact that both she and her equally unfortunate partner FBI civilian consultant Peter Bishop lacked any sense of caution when in hot pursuit of a lead or suspect, they ended up landing themselves into the thickly muddled jurisdiction of the CDC; While going above and beyond the typical call of duty, in true Fringe style, in managing to simultaneously pissing off someone with quite a bit of leverage within the government.

Whether that person was related in some way to their current investigation and that was what had rankled or if it was just a case of stepping on the wrong person's metaphorical toes Olivia couldn't be sure.

Whichever it was at this point hardly mattered Olivia would later reflect as she and Peter were now firmly tied up in red tape, so to speak, and incapable of doing anything about it.

"Move!"

Olivia and Peter emerged from the back of the windowless van outside of a gigantic building labeled 'Center for Disease Control Research and Development'.

The plan nondescript building looked somehow more menacing with the hazmat suits that surrounded them and the automatic weapon that was currently following their every move.

All attempts to explain that they were FBI agents or to show anyone her badge or his credentials had been dutifully ignored.

Feeling utterly ridiculous, with being covered from nearly head to toe in some non-descript sticky liquid a whole tank of which had been dumped onto them by their fleeing suspect in an attempt to slow their pursuit; which had worked beautifully seeing as the building's security system was set off when the suspect entered the lab. Further compounded when the security immediately contacted the CDC once they realized that several containers had been busted, sealing both agents in the room until the Calvary arrived.

And seeing as Said Calvary was now ushering both agents into the CDC building and NOT pursuing the missing suspect it had worked perfectly in his favor.

Olivia and Peter were both hustled into a decontamination room with large drains in the floor, several of the hazmat suited associates departed at this point leaving four behind.

"Strip!"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Peter's outburst was apparently not taken well as the first suited individual turned a large gauge hose in his direction, blasting him full on in the face and chest with a large stream of water. The man sprayed him for about 30 seconds then stopped leaving him to sputter and cough, dripping now more than he had been when they entered the room.

"Strip Please, your clothing has been contaminated and needs to be destroyed," It seemed suit number two was feeling a bit more chatty, hell they'd even gotten a please.

Of course this politeness was negated by the fact that he too was reaching for a hose.

"Oh well, since you said Please!" These earned Peter the hose again.

Knowing a bit about decontamination protocol Olivia came to the conclusion that like it or not there was no way around this; and if the CDC were in such a fit over whatever it was all over them then she figured it was in her best interest to get it as far away from her person as possible.

She would just try to ignore the fact that she was about to bare-it-all to a bunch of CDC suits, and worst of all to Peter, who was really the far more embarrassing of this equation.

Not that it should matter to him, having seen her multiple times in the early days of their partnership not only in her underpants but also wet, and high, and in all other kinds of awkward and blush inducing predicaments.

She'd mustered her way through those situations, and she could do the same now.

Of course back then she hadn't been hiding the same feelings towards her Partner that she was now; in fact if she had felt then, the way she did now about Peter Bishop; Olivia was certain she would have turned tail and run the second she laid eyes on him in Iraq.

Seeing as how arguing was getting Peter nowhere, and was undoubtedly going to do the same for her; Olivia began quickly removing items of clothing. Shoes, jacket, shirt, tank-top, she hesitated a moment on the pants sucking in a breath to steel her nerves. Trying to convince herself that this was no different than wearing a bikini really, no big deal, just wearing a bikini in front of a bunch of CDC goons as they blasted her with hoses of what was certainly, judging by Peter's reaction, very cold water.

This is probably some spring break fantasy filmed for MTV, a wet-t-shirt contest in the extreme.

She made the mistake of looking at Peter out of the corner of her eye; he stood dripping water and goo onto the floor, he stood stock still; frozen in place, eyes fixed on her mouth slightly agape.

"Oh just do it Peter,"

Peters jaw clenched like he wanted to argue more, but seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere, a fact he was painfully aware of, and he was also aware that whatever substance they were currently drenched in could possibly produce a far worse fate then death by embarrassment.

Peter quickly followed suit, losing the t-shirt, shoes and jeans as Olivia tossed her pants and the rest of her clothes towards hazmat number three who was holding a large red bag; obviously to collect their clothing in; and most likely Olivia reasoned to be incinerated and never seen again.

"All of it!"

Olivia balked for a moment. Staring at hazmat one in stunned disbelief trying to ascertain if this was what passed for CDC humor. Judging by the grim set of his mouth through the tiny window of his hazmat suit he was hardly the joking type.

Right. Just get it over with.

Olivia decidedly _not_ looking at Peter-or at anyone else for that matter quickly shucked the rest of her clothing and tossed it towards the red bag, missing by quite a bit of distance; not that it mattered as the hazmat suit quickly hustled forward to discard her last remaining articles of clothing into the bag and snatching up Peter's clothes as well.

Olivia had barely a second to steel herself before the water hit her, and it was indeed cold; bitterly so. The steady stream from two separate hoses trained on her front and back blasting every inch of her with what seemed a never ending assault of frigid water. Till her teeth were chattering and her skin was peaked with gooseflesh, the pounding jet of water becoming almost painful against her skin.

Olivia didn't dare protest, knowing it would do little good, she just grit her teeth and did her best to make sure the torrent flow of ice cold water rinsed every inch of skin she had.

After what felt like hours but was in reality about 10 minutes the water stopped leaving them shivering and soaked to the bone. Hair plastered to their faces and all trace of the liquid goo gone from their skin and the floor they were instructed into the next room, where another hazmat supplied them with soap and showers, which gloriously after the last room had the added benefit of hot water, but did not have the civility of shower curtains or doors, making Olivia relive the horrors of high school gym class where girls were terrified to shower lest they be teased or judged by their peers for their body.

Not that Olivia had anything to be ashamed of, and this was hardly the time nor the place to dwell on such misgivings. Back ramrod straight and still making every effort not to look at Peter, or even acknowledge his presence; Olivia proceeded to the shower designated by the white hazmat suit, and with gruff instructions to shower until the water shut off and then proceed to the locker room beyond for fresh clothing they were left alone.

Peter would have preferred to pick any of the other shower spouts throughout the room; preferably one behind Olivia and facing the opposite direction so that he didn't open himself up to further harm today by getting caught ogling her naked body.

Sure Peter had seen Olivia in various states of undress before; but never before displayed in all her glory, naked and wet, the cold water of their first 'shower' having an appreciable effect on her hard pebbled nipples. And though she seemed to being doing her best to ignore him, and his very presence Peter was having a terrible time offering her the same consideration.

The temptation was just too much, and while he tried, he really did to keep his eyes to himself he knew he was failing because every time he closed his eyes to let the hot water rinse the soap from his hair and face he saw her naked image burned into the back of his retinas.

Olivia methodically soaped and rinsed, soaped and rinsed, keeping an eye on the timer affixed to the wall near her shower spout ticking down the minutes till this particular horror was over.

She was well aware of Peter's body next to hers, naked and wet she didn't need to turn her head to picture the soap sliding down his chest and abdomen, lower and lower…her brain was already overloading her imagination with sinfully delicious images, she hardly needed to turn her head and multiply her problem by taking in the real thing.

When the timer finally ran down Olivia had used so much soap she was certain she'd taken off a few layers of skin. Her arms and belly were red a combination, she hoped, of the cold water, then rough soaping and subsequent blasting heat she'd pelted herself with and not some reaction to whatever goo it was they were splattered with earlier.

Unable to resist any longer she turned her head just a fraction towards Peter to find that he'd been caught with soap still in his hair, and running down his face and unable to help the grin that formed she stepped forward to turn his shower back on for another 2 minutes. Then whirling on her heel she beat a hasty retreat towards the waiting locker room and hopefully fresh clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chemical X

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Fox and the brilliant actors that portray them; however the situation I've landed them in? That's mine allllllll mine!

Please Note: This story's chapters were titled/written in the style of the ingenious writer Gail Carriger; who never fails to crack me up with her witty labels and writing style.

Also, it has been confirmed that I am perhaps the run-on-sentence-Queen. And despite my Beta's best attempts tame this beast; the Run-on's shall continue!

In all seriousness, I am working diligently to improve these stories so they are easy on the eyes both grammatically; and through the liberal application of naked Peter every chance I get.

See, that was also a run on sentence, but you were so distracted by 'naked Peter' you probably didn't even notice did you? Mission Accomplished!

And now without Further 'Ado:

**Chapter Two**

_In which Olivia grapples with naked Peter_

_Whilst going commando._

Olivia did indeed find clothing in the locker room beyond the showers; and not that she was in any position to protest; her own clothing having by now with all certainty been destroyed.

And finding herself resolutely naked as a result; she should probably-etiquette dictated; be appreciative to find fresh towels and items of apparel laid out upon the metal bench.

But this, was just utterly ridiculous. Olivia had quickly toweled and endeavored to don the clothing before her, set into two piles, regrettably with a severe oversight of underpants.

As if that was not bad enough; the act of affixing said clothing to her person proved her suspicion to be correct; the CDC it seemed had a One Size Does _not_ Fit Olivia policy in their clothing department.

The ties of the pants hung almost to her knees when pulled strongly enough so that they did not threaten to expose her derriere and other bits to the world, again.

And the legs despite her taller than average frame, for a woman that is, trailed well past her feet giving the impression that she wore the footy pajamas favored by 4 year olds everywhere.

The top proved more reminiscent of a tent then an actual shirt. Swallowing her whole frame it hung off one shoulder like a hap-hazard toga and at least covered most of the pants being longer then one of the few dresses Olivia owned; the top also provided the added benefit of making her completely shapeless.

How utterly appealing, Olivia huffed.

Not that there was anything to be done at this moment; having nothing else to wear; she could hardly continue to prance about in the nude; someone was bound to notice that indiscretion. Besides which fretting over her appearance at this juncture was rather frivolous and idiotic; Peter had already seen her in the most embarrassing capacity Olivia could fathom, oversize clothes were hardly a concern now.

Upon inspecting the second set of clothes laid out for Peter she discovered that they too were of the disproportionate size.

A trivial detail, but comforting, as misery does love company; At least Peter would also be swimming.

And with a similar lack of undergarments Olivia noted feeling a bit light-headed at the thought.

Glancing into the mirror over the sinks, much to her chagrin Olivia confirmed that in this get-up, that she more closely resembled an Ompa-Lumpa than a Federal Agent.

She set about rolling the hem into a cuff trying to prevent the pants from becoming a tripping hazard. She'd had enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.

The last thing she needed was to fall flat on her face in front of Peter because she was traipsing about in pajamas fit for a 300 pound-7 foot tall-person.

Andre the giant would find these pants roomy.

Having successfully gathered about two feet of length into a nice evenly folded—if a bit bulky cuff around her ankles, Olivia concluded there wasn't much to be done about the crotch hanging almost to her knees, or the top; if she'd had a belt it might have turned the top into a sort-of bohemian style dress.

Olivia supposed she'd seen uglier things on the covers of popular gossip magazines; the kind that littered the check-out counter of every grocery and convenience store pronouncing what the state of Hollywood's wardrobe to be either brilliant or a flop.

Roughing the towel through her hair Olivia tried to get the last of the water from each strand; lest it dampen her shirt and allow it to stick to her body in a more revealing mannor.

It was at this moment, seated at the bench head turned upside-down toweling her hair when the door to the shower room opened behind her. And Peter padded across the room to grab the towel only a few feet from her.

Olivia had been wondering what was taking so long; she figured that Peter had been trying to give her enough time to dress; or that he had been hiding on the other side of the door working up the courage to face her again

…of course there was another possibility for Peter's delay but Olivia firmly tramped down that image in her head before it took off like a run-away train.

She was having enough trouble with the image of a soapy—wet Peter; imagining him performing illicit activities upon his person whilst being soapy and wet was liable to have a liquefy effect on Olivia's brain.

It certainly made an effect on other parts of her anatomy.

Olivia continued to hide under her towel, maybe she would just never come back out…

Opening her eyes to stare at her toes; planning to evaluate just how to get beyond this embarrassment, Olivia inadvertently found that by tucking her chin just-so she was provided a truly splendid and covert view of Peter's backside.

Nearly dropping her towel in shock Olivia tried to avert her eyes, but couldn't help herself.

The man had a truly scrumptious ass.

Finely muscled legs; tight perfect globe of a butt—the muscles flexing under his smooth lightly tanned skin as he stepped into and hoisted up pale grey cotton drawers matching her own would drive any woman to distraction.

Hell, a lesser woman then herself would probably be panting by now.

To Olivia's distress, Peter's pants-unlike hers'; once tied sat treacherously low on his hips, staying just above the curve of his ass, sensually accenting his narrow hips and draping perfectly over his runners legs. Olivia took stock of his perfectly muscled chest as he turned toward the bench to retrieve the shirt.

That just wasn't fair, the same pants that made her look like a homeless bag-lady framed Peter's long legs and waist with a casual mouth watering appeal. Hell they looked stylish enough on his edible frame to grace the cover of GQ.

Coupled with the drops of water he'd failed to towel from his chest and the just-showered tussled look of his hair as it twisted sensually in every direction; Olivia's imagination kicked into overdrive picturing Peter with a mop of just-got-out-of-bed hair—the kind that was firmly mused from fingers running through it all night long.

Olivia quickly tried to derail that thought, Peter in bed, or imagining running her hands through his damp hair and licking the beads of water off his magnificent chest was execrably out of bounds.

_Too late_, Olivia felt a rush of heat in places other than her cheeks; though she was certainly blushing as well.

_Good God_. That man was sex incarnate.

Ogling her partner as he dressed was probably some kind of mortal sin; the images running rampant through her brain most assuredly were.

Peter could probably wear a paper bag and make it look good. He was just that sexy.

Ripping the towel off her head and straightening to stare at the lockers in front of her lest she be tempted to continue staring at Peter's still half naked body, if she looked any harder she was in serious danger of drooling, or ripping his freshly applied clothes back off his body.

_No good._ It would hardly do to molest her unsuspecting partner in a strange locker room just because her hormones seemed to be getting the better of her as of late.

Olivia desperately needed some space, time to collect her wits and put this whole she-bang behind her so that she didn't do something inexcusably stupid like screwing her partner on the patterned tile floor.

_Unnng._ Olivia hid her face in her hands for a moment blocking the locker room from view, hoping to simultaneously gather what was left of her sanity so she could stop fantasizing about running her hands down his back and squeezing his ass.

This might have worked except that, Fate; which seemed to be immensely enjoying torturing the hell out of Olivia, drove Peter at that particular moment-having noting his partners obvious sign of distress-moved to place his hands over her shoulders in what was probably intended as a sign of comfort and support.

What it actually resulted in was Olivia obsessing over the heat in his skin and the way his fingers would feel _Under_ her shirt instead of over it.

Olivia leapt up from the bench, startling Peter in the process but it could not be helped; she had to get out of here.

This time at least Fate seemed to take Pity on her as the door to the opposite end of the locker room opened admitting a man in his early 40's dressed nicely; but plainly with a completely forgettable nondescript face.

He requested they follow him please; and Olivia not daring to spare a look for Peter; afraid her face was still far to flushed with the obvious hustled after the man without question.

Olivia had been hoping that this whole thing could now be put behind them; they were obviously free of whatever substance had previously covered them; and seeing as the current escort was not encased in a hazmat suit Olivia incorrectly assumed that they were about to be turned over to a waiting taxi cab or worse; to a grim faced Agent Broyles.

Olivia would have a hard enough time explaining this to her boss under normal circumstances; the fact that she might have to do it without any underwear somehow succeeded in making the impending conversation a thing of nightmares.

It was considerably more difficult, Olivia reasoned, to keep ones composure when not appropriately suited for the occasion; Just as one would never think of attending a fancy FBI function in jeans, or showing up to work a crime scene in a bikini. Clothes make the man so the saying went…well woman in this case.

Finding herself distressingly bereft of things Olivia usually considered mandatory to conduct business not only as a professional; but to function in life in general; pants suit; socks; shoes, gun….panties…she was having a dickens of a time behaving as expected…

As raucously evident by her progressively deteriorating equanimity and increasing fixation with Peter's countenance; namely what it would look like naked and writhing above her.

Dear God. What the hell was wrong with her?

Olivia wondered vaguely if the menacing goo that was root cause of her current predicament might have been something as heinous as unadulterated sex hormones.

Which sounded suspiciously like something Walter would concoct in his lab; but what the Hell the CDC would be doing with such a substance Olivia did not want to know.

Nothing else could explain the reason she'd gone completely off her rocker.

_Well, Olivia admitted to herself; no not really._ Olivia was no stranger to fanaticizing about Peter Bishop. She was quite the coinsure in fact of conjuring up all sorts of un-partner-like debauchery on a daily basis…a proverbial queen in imaginary flights of fancy when it came to one delicious Peter Bishop and compromising situations.

The difference being that under _normal circumstances_, at least _most_ of the time; when she ordered her brain to focus so she could accomplish something work related; _generally—with _ she admitted some minor exceptions—her libido relented. Allowing her to dial things back to a light simmer, so to speak, and function without letting on as to her delicate imposition.

Today however, Olivia's overly taxed body was cranked up to a rolling boil.

Olivia wondered if she asked Peter to touch her if he could feel the heat emanating off her skin in waves; or if it was just her imagination.

Somewhere in the back of Olivia's brain a nervous giggle formulated and bubbled out despite her best attempts to contain it.

So frazzled was Olivia by her current situation and out of character mindset that she was convinced that if was simply in possession of some underpants she might actually be able to think clearly.

Following the gentleman and Olivia down the nondescript hallways Peter couldn't help but find himself a little amused at their current situation. Olivia must be truly steamed over losing her clothes. Peter had to admit the clothing did nothing for Olivia's frame, draping her like a sack of potatoes, he might appreciate the outfit more if it was without pants perhaps….then he could stare at her legs as he followed her down the hallway. After a short time, and without incident they arrived at a room Peter assumed to be a debriefing room, or in the least a place with chairs were they could wait for someone at the FBI, most likely Broyles to show up; make a sour face, do some barking in their general direction and then herald them away.

However upon entering the room Peter found that it resembled a hotel suite more than an office or meeting space.

Pausing in the doorway Peter regarded this turn of events in confusion. This was certainly an unusual room to debrief them in…in fact if Peter didn't know any better he might infer that the CDC was expecting them to stay a while.

As the gentleman turned to face them once more; his features grim Peter felt his stomach turn.

"Unfortunately due to the substance you have previously come into contact with the Regulations of the CDC require us to keep you under strict observation and containment protocol level 3. You understand, we wouldn't want this incident to affect the public should you actually have a reaction."

Olivia looked tense. "What kind of reaction?"

The man looked uncomfortable, "Let's not get into that unless it becomes necessary shall we? It is after all classified information."

Peter was liking this less and less. "Observation for how long?"

The man looked uncomfortable with this question as well, Peter noted that he was probably a terrible poker player. "oh, not to worry, your superiors have been briefed on the situation, and all of your needs will be taken care of. This is the CDC after all, not prison." The man seemed to be laboring under the delusion that this was somehow an improvement.

"So as long as we stay in this building were okay?" Peter glanced at Olivia who was saying nothing at this point. Olivia was standing in the center of the room looking increasingly nervous, she was breathing fast and her eyes were darting around the room in a very un-Olivia like way. She didn't look nervous Peter realized; Olivia looked terrified.

Which worried Peter more than he wanted to admit.

The man swallowed, "No…protocol dictates you should be confined to one space to prevent…issues."

"Oh right, Well that doesn't sound like Prison at all does it? Guess I should have gathered that from the shower situation earlier! Good thing I didn't drop the soap Huh? Now _That_ would have been awkward!"

Apparently incapable of dealing with Peter's particular brand of sarcasm the man decided to ignore his comments completely. "Right, well if you don't mind Mr. Bishop following me to the next room so that Agent Dunham can get comfortable."

What happened next was the last thing Peter could have ever imagined...being able to count on one hand the number of times Olivia had shown strong emotions or true signs of distress; never the less Olivia, for reasons unknown to Peter chose this moment to lose it.

Bursting into tears at this pronouncement and rushing towards what Peter assumed was the door—perhaps in an attempt to escape, Peter was caught completely unprepaired and was subsequently nearly knocked on his ass—as it was he slammed into the wall beside the open door with a loud bang as Olivia slammed into him, probably exceedingly lucky that he had not ended up flat on his ass in the hallway and taking Olivia with him. Wrapping her arms around his chest Olivia was sobbing.

"No! No, Please, Don't leave me in here alone! You can't leave me in here!"

Their escort, whose mouth was hanging open making him look a bit like a fish seemed at a distinct loss of words for this particular turn of events.

And Peter, feeling like a fish out of water himself was willing to do anything, if she would just calm down and stop crying. Olivia crying made him feel like shit; even if her tears were not his fault, Peter's guilty conscious made him feel responsible just the same.

It appeared their new friend was about as comfortable with Olivia's break down as Peter was for he took that moment to offer a quick word of apology and scooted out the now vacant doorway pulling it shut behind him.

Alright my pretties, that's 9 pages of goodness. Stay tuned for more, and as always it doesn't hurt to leave a review if you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Writers Note: **_Just a little warning, that's right…I'm actually warning you here! This is definitely rated M for MmmmMmmm DAMN that's GOOD! This story departs a bit from the writing styles of the two previous chapters in favor of Getting it ON!_

_If you think you might be offended by outrageous rampage between our favorite Fringlets then What in Holy Hexes are you doing reading an M rated story? Egahads! Are you Lost? There's the back button right there, now shoo, shoo, shoo! _

_For those of you who came here looking for smut, smut and more smut; I have decided to Deliver!_

_In fact Upon reviewing this, I think I shall rate this Chapter under a __new system__ I'm calling this __**M2.0**__ It's like windows…only with more WHAM! xD _

_Ahem. Alright now, off you go, don't say I didn't warn you! _

_Disclaimer:__ Don't own; and most likely after this particular ficy if I ever came close to owning said characters they might run screaming in the opposite direction in fear for their sanity if not their lives :D Wise you are my little Fringlets…you can run but you can't hide!_

**Chapter Three**

_In Which our Dashingly Dosed Agents,_

_Forsake clothing and common sense._

Olivia was in absolute hysterics.

Only once had Peter seen her so freaked out and that situation had involved his lovely father's sensory deprivation tank; and a heavy load of hallucinogenic drugs.

Since Peter was pretty certain Olivia wasn't high.

He certainly wasn't feeling any abnormal effects…well unless he was imagining her clinging to his shirt and arms wrapped tightly around his back, her face pressed to his chest. It felt pretty real to him. And while this particular reaction was not something Olivia normally did it was also nothing like what his _imaginary Olivia_ did when he chose to fantasize about her.

Cling to him and sob his name yes…but usually in a naked and wet kind of way…this Olivia was just well…._wet_…and now so was Peter's shirt.

As a direct result Peter had to conclude that her current state of obvious distress was being caused by their immediate surroundings. And looking around again Peter was beginning to have an inkling why.

Something he'd over heard Olivia say to Walter after she'd returned from the other side; one of the few times in fact she'd ever talked about what happened during that time.

She'd been describing to Walter what a relief it was to find out that only three months had gone by while on the other side.

Because Olivia wasn't sure how long she had been there.

Peter's real father, a _real fucking bastard_ as far as Peter was concerned, had decided to use a form of psychological torture to break her down. Perhaps hoping to get answers about the other side.

Olivia had never said what happened afterward…

But Peter did know about the white room.

They had locked her in a little white room probably very similar to this one, only Peter reasoned, probably with less amenities. The CDC was not really trying to torture them…most likely…

Left in the room Olivia had lost all sense of time, place and self—nearly going insane. She hadn't been sure with no clocks, no lights, no windows, whether it was hours, days or months she was left alone. She'd remarked that when the testing started she was certain she'd been inside that room for years...

Peter couldn't even imagine what that must have been like.

Hell he found it difficult to sit in a hotel room for a few hours without the Television on. Had the same torture been enacted upon him Peter was quite certain he would have emerged more disturbed then Walter.

Certainly being faced with a similar situation now might throw Olivia back into that panicked state. Afraid that if they left her alone without him, without contact with anyone else she would start to believe again that she was still on the other side. Maybe even that she had in fact never escaped that room at all.

Though seeing as she hadn't told him specifically about any of this Peter was a bit unsure how to proceed, and what to say.

Maybe she hadn't wanted him to know. She hadn't said anything to him about it in the months that she had been back.

Obviously whatever had happened over there had left a far bigger scar on Olivia's subconscious then she was willing to admit to anyone; even herself.

Whether because she was embarrassed by what he might think if, or because of some miss-guided attempt to protect him from the truth about his real fathers actions; perhaps believing that Peter still preferred _that Walter_ to the Walter on this side.

If it was an attempt to protect him Peter thought that was rather laughable, having already spent a lifetime living with the consequences of one father's unfortunate actions; really, what was the burden of one more?

Peter had come to the realization that his real father was most likely the worse of two evils even before he'd left the other side….finding out what he had done to Olivia, hell the fact that he had stolen her alone had been enough to remove any affection Peter may have thought he had for the man.

The _Other Walter Bishop_ was a complete stranger and nothing like the man that Peter had believed was his father.

A complete stranger obviously capable of terrible things; far more terrible Peter believed, based on the evidence before him, than anything their Walter had ever done.

And here he was once again left holding the pieces after the fact-struggling to put them back together.

Only this time the pieces in his hands were more precious than anything he'd ever held in his life. Peter took in a deep breath wrapping his arms around her finally having overcome some of his shock. He closed his eyes for a moment praying to whomever—or whatever was up there that he didn't fuck this up. Resting his cheek against her hair Peter began to rub her back in slow circles kneading the muscles under his hands.

Olivia was still crying but not as hard now. He felt he should say something, but for once Peter was completely at a loss for words. So he kept rubbing her back and pressing kisses to the top of her head, eventually he found that he was murmuring to her that it was alright, and that he wasn't going anywhere without even realizing it.

Finally after a good half hour Olivia stopped crying completely. Even the little hiccup breaths had passed, and Peter realized that he was still holding her. Still rubbing her back and he wasn't just at a loss for how to safely disengage himself from her person—he simply didn't want to. Bunching the now completely rumpled cotton of Olivia's shirt in his hands he found the smooth expanse of the skin at her back, and when she didn't protest, just took in a little gasp of breathe. He proceeded to massage the lower expanse of her back, working his way up her spine till the shirt was bunched half-way up her abdomen exposing the smooth flat expanse of her stomach.

His thumbs diligently began working on the deep knots between her shoulder blades, feeling her lean further into his chest. Her arms still around him but now loose and relaxed her breath puffed against his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt. Her chin tucked to her chest, forehead against his right shoulder groaning into his hands as he worked out a particularly delicate spot.

"Liv,"

"Hmm?" Was that her voice? _God,_ she sounded half asleep Olivia realized…though she was rather exhausted from her crying jag…a good hard sob never failed to make her sleepy and blotchy.

…Of course it could also have to do with the fantastic way Peter was systematically seeking out and destroying every ounce of tension in her back and now in her shoulders. His warm hands methodically covering every inch of skin; a warm liquid haze was beginning to spread out from Olivia's center to fizzle along the nerve endings of every limb.

Olivia wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve such royal treatment but it felt fantastic and she hoped he didn't stop anytime soon. If this was Peter's typical treatment for crying she'd have to break down in tears more often. It would be completely worth it seeing as his touch was so thorough and…sinfully delicious.

Peter was becoming more and more aware of Olivia's body pressed up against his, of her breath against his chest through his skimpy cotton shirt, now completely soaked and useless. He was fascinated by how much of her skin he was exposing, not that he hadn't just seen her naked perhaps a mere hour ago.

But now he was getting to touch her…and touching Peter thought to himself was way better than just looking. And how much of her he was being allowed to touch was making Peter feel a bit giddy, and nervous. He kept waiting for her to step away, to tell him that was enough; but she just kept sighing and standing there.

Soon Peter's mind couldn't help wandering from the basic feel of the muscles beneath his fingertips to the feel of the silky smooth skin over top of them.

The way her breathing came deeper and then would rush out of her in a shallow huff with each knot he zeroed in on. How she would sigh deeply leaning in just a bit further as he worked the kink out of her shoulder and returned to a more delicate caress seeking out more minute imperfections under her skin. He was deeply aware as he did this of the drape of her arms around his sides, the pressure of her fingertips just above the curve of his ass. When he felt her fingers flex against his back pulling him closer still Peter became startlingly aware of just how aroused he was by this scenario…and as Olivia leaned further into him no doubt she was too.

Olivia was floating away on a little pink fluffy cloud.

Every muscle in her body felt like liquid heat.

Melting every concern and care Olivia had thought important until those delicious fingers had started to work their magic.

Who cared about mutant goo, or white rooms, or detainment when she had Peter's fingers on her, working so diligently to ease every ache, and bump…

Olivia felt her own fingers tighten on Peter's backside of their own accord; She certainly didn't feel capable of finding enough thought to spare for such a complicated action. Olivia was just trying her best to remember how to breathe. Nevertheless her fingers against Peter's backside tightened consequently pulling him flush against her. As she felt the press of his erection against her belly breathing became that much more difficult.

Still Peter's hands did not still, and Olivia's breath though it may have sucked in for a startled moment was soon released again as he worked his magical thumbs over another particularly stubborn knot.

Why shouldn't Peter get enjoyment out of this? She thought, Hell she certainly was, it felt so good in fact that Olivia was a bit inspired to begin a campaign of her own.

Allowing her fingers free reign to investigate the lower plains of Peter's broad back, particularly the little dimples just above the swell of that perfectly round ass. When she felt her palms against the curve of his ass, pressing him full into her with a little moan it was almost as shocking to her as it was to him.

_What the Hell_? Olivia blinked. How had her hands wandered that far?

Peter's breath was ragged against her left cheek, her forehead still being pressed to his chest. His fingers were still pressed into her back, now just below her shoulder blades. His thumbs having slid their way partially around her ribs to where Olivia realized her nipples were pressed against his chest in hardened tips, the buzzing in her head intensified.

"Olivia?"

"hmmmm…" She liked the way her name sounded when he said it like that…all low and throaty-like.

Peter's hands slide further around the curve or her rib cage to cup her breast in his palms and Olivia felt her bodies raging approval at this development; her nipples if possible pebbled impossibly harder. The heat in her spine coiled further into her belly making Olivia aware suddenly of just how wet she was.

_Jesus one little backrub and she was liquid putty in his hands. _

As Peter's thumbs brushed over her hardened sensitive nipples Olivia bit back a groan and digging her fingers into his ass pulled his erection against her, shifting one leg to grinding her wet core against his thigh. Certain that he would be able to feel the heat even through their clothes. She was right as Peter's erection strained against the cotton, pressing into her belly, and his breath came out in ragged gasps.

"_Jesus_, What the Hell…What are we _doing_?"

Obviously there was some confusion. Olivia Mused.

Olivia rotated her pelvis going up on tip-toe she managed the missing couple inches required to slide the center of her heat; and now very obviously wet junction of her body against his cotton encased member. Rubbing her heat from the tip to base of his cock grinding into him had the delicious effect of making him groan and her own body shudder with little electric ripples of need.

Olivia grinned against his neck pressing a kiss to his exposed collar bone as Peter swore when he felt her sex press against his even through the flimsy cotton barriers. One of his hands abandoned her breasts dropping to cup her hip and buttocks pinning her against him as he ground into her again making her moan and sending another rush of heat and wetness through her core.

Turning them so that Olivia's back was to the wall Peter brought both hands to her hips lifting her and pressing her back into the wall. When he felt Olivia's legs wrap around him bringing her sex-soaked cotton into contact with his straining cock Peter's breathing went from ragged to short pants.

God he'd never felt so fucking turned on in all his life. _Jesus_. He was dry-humping Olivia against a wall. _What the fuck?_

Part of Peter's brain was desperately sending up red-flags that this situation, while highly entertaining, and exactly what he wanted to be doing…was probably _not_ something he _should _be doing….But Peter couldn't seem to formulate the reason _why_.

When Olivia's hot little mouth closed around his ear lobe and she ground into him again Peter gave up trying to figure out why not…and instead decided to dedicate his remaining reserves into getting her out of her clothes.

Practically ripping the shirt off over her head Peter wasted not a second bringing his mouth down to devour her breasts. His hands bracing her against his hips half propped on the wall, he was quite pleased to find that despite her precarious position Olivia was still able to grind herself against him so that her hot wet center pressed against his now equally soaked cotton pants. Pressing her down into his body he could feel the head of his cock pressed against her entrance…he could feel the slick heat, and practically smell her.

She was moaning and gasping and rocking her hips against his, and when he sucked her nipple into his mouth and bit down with a thrust of his hips she came against him. His cock twitching as another delicious flood of molten heat called to him, as his primal senses flared and Peter could smell nothing but sex in the air.

Sex and heat and want…and the way Olivia was still mewling and grinding against him Peter could barely stand it. Grabbing her knees and prying her off him with some difficulty as she was fighting him the whole time. Olivia was practically trying to climb back up his body even as her own seemed to still be caught mid-orgasm.

Peter held up one finger trying to signal her to wait.

Instead Olivia grabbed his hand and placed his finger inside the unexpected heat of her mouth. Sucking and swirling her tongue around its tip making Peter's knees feel even weaker, and his cock impossibly harder.

God Peter wanted to be in that mouth.

He needed to be in that heat.

He needed to drive into her over and over until he found release.

Managing to form enough coherency to grab the ties of Olivia's pants with his other hand, even as most of his brain was concentrating on the sensations of Olivia's mouth, and how that would feel on other parts of his anatomy. Peter gave the end of one of the loops a swift tug with more strength then he'd realized apparently.

Olivia pitched forward into Peter, her pants falling around her ankles and they both tumbled to the floor. Or perhaps there was something really wrong with their balance? Peter briefly theorized before becoming completely distracted again. Landing in a heaping mass of limbs, and bumps, and grunts…

Olivia immediately began rubbing herself against him again; now finding herself mostly at-top Peter's body, having landed flat out on his back.

She began rubbing her core against his thigh, and against his cock. Making little moaning noises that were not helping what remained of Peter's sanity while he grappled with the ties on his own pants. Finally finding the ends of the confounded ties he gave them a vicious yank loosening the waistband of his own pants and attempting to push them down over his rock hard cock, while Olivia was still trying mindlessly to climb on top of him.

Peter finally managed to free himself as Olivia ground against him again. This time bringing the actual molten slick heat of her folds against the head of his erection making them both suck in a breath as Olivia nearly came again just from the contact; and Peter saw little white stars behind his eyelids.

Having to pant for air for a few moments afraid he might pass out Peter finally grabbed her hips and without warning impaled himself into her waiting heat. Making Olivia arch her back and scream.

White fuzzies, and little stars danced across his vision, but Peter didn't stop.

He rolled them so that Olivia was underneath him, and began pounding his body into hers. Pumping in and out as she thrashed and shuddered and nearly choked on the air she was trying to get down. Not slowing as she came back down from her orgasm Peter's body seemed to be possessed as he drove into her. Olivia's nails clawing down his back, and leaving angry welts in his shoulders that he didn't even feel as she begged him for more.

Harder, faster please, and he complied.

Pistoning his hips into her, his eyes rolled back in his head and the room became nothing but a flash of white lights, and tiny fireworks as he spilled himself inside her.

Olivia's own release coming again, white hot and fast, she gasped and clutched at him, wrapping her legs around his.

Peter gasped for air, finding himself face down in the carpet. He felt sticky and wet, and impossibly hard. Little bolts of electricity continued to race up his spine and down his limbs with each wave of Olivia's continued Orgasm.

Their skin, and her hair, hell the _whole room_ smelled like sex and animal attraction.

As Peter tried to blink away the fog he felt Olivia rocking her hips against his again. Her hands clutching at his shoulders, running down his back to grasp his ass, pulling him forward to bury him all the way to the hilt again in her slick wet heat and Peter found himself thrusting again. Driving himself into her, he felt her moan and cry out his name; her head thrown back her neck exposed to him. Peter Continued to drive his body into her, all the way to the base grinding against her with his pelvis, sending shocks of pleasure through her body with each impact to the tiny bundle of nerves just above her sex. Shocks he could practically feel with each spasm of her muscles and each gasp of breath.

Unable to stop himself Peter leaned down and began licking and biting Olivia's neck and collar bone, leaving little angry red marks; and probably bruises in his wake.

Not that Olivia seemed to mind, in fact based on the noises she was making again; and the way her body was getting impossibly tighter around his own once more she was right on the edge again.

Biting down hard where her neck met collar uncaring if he hurt her Peter felt her explode around him again. Heat and wetness flooding out of her, as she cried out, as her body pulled him in and Peter felt his own release begin deep in his gut, he thrust forward into her impossibly tight folds.

Driving himself into her and spilling himself inside her again, groaning and leaning one arm against the floor, trying to brace himself Peter tried to climb off of her… flopping over onto his back he stared up at the ceiling gasping, and trembling, sweat running down into his eyes, and slicking the strains of his hair to his forehead, the room was spinning, he felt like he was melting.

In a panic he brought one hand to his forehead wiping at it with his palm, but it appeared to be only sweat…though what Peter might look like if he was actually melting he wasn't sure he could process at this moment in time.

In fact Peter was aware of the distinct feeling of wetness against his cock again…unable to lift his head to look down he cocked his head to the side instead rolling his neck and offering him a maddening image that would be burned into his retina's he had no doubt for all of time.

There was Olivia, perched between his legs; her hair loose and hopelessly knotted…but her mouth…._dear god_….how was it even possible her mouth was on him, and Peter felt like his blood was boiling.

Olivia's hands came up to grip the base of his still impressive erection with one hand, while she massaged his balls with the other.

She smiled as she slide her lips around the head of his cock and once more slide him into her mouth. Just as she had done with his finger, she swirled her tongue over the tip and then let him sink into her mouth, drawing him into her waiting heat, running her tongue along the base as she did in little circles. She pulled back before swallowing him down again. Bobbing her head and massaging him, alternating her rhythm back and forth so that just as Peter thought he knew what she was going to do next she changed and left him frustrated…feeling completely out of control Peter growled her name and began pulling at her wrists, trying to pull her up to straddle him.

She didn't seem to want to comply completely engrossed in her current activity.

Finally Peter couldn't take it anymore he had to be inside her again. Bolting upright off the floor, he grabbed her upper arms and dragged her up his body, her mouth leaving his cock with a surprised little 'pop'. Olivia began to make noises of protest until Peter grabbed her hips and brought his erection to her entrance again.

Suddenly all thoughts of her previous activity seemed to leave her thoughts as Olivia rocked back and drove him into her heat again throwing her head back and gasping as she did.

Peter groaned at the by now almost familiar sensation of her wet velvet folds grasping and squeezing around his cock from base to tip overtook his senses—if one could ever get used to this feeling which Peter doubted quite seriously.

It was like dying and going to heaven each time; and how did someone get used to that?

Groping Olivia's breasts in his hands, squeezing and rolling her nipples between his fingers he watched in fascination as she rode his cock. Head thrown back, hands braced against his thighs. She rose up to impale herself over, and over again in a nearly mindless rhythm.

Gasping each time she buried him all the way and each time he thrust up to grind against her sending white hot pleasure shooting through every nerve in her body.

Olivia was out of control.

Sweat tickled down her chest, between the valley of her breasts, as Peter's fingers pulled and twisted making her body clench with heat, and her pounding rhythm as she continued to drive herself back on to Peter's waiting rock hard erection faster, and more erratic.

She was going out of her mind.

She couldn't stop, it felt so good. The little white lights danced just beyond her vision and she gasped and felt her body shake once more with release as Peter leaned forward from the floor to lick the drops of sweat from her chest.

Sucking almost her whole breast into his mouth and biting down as he used his hips to slam into her; his hands to hold her in place as he impaled her over and over again. She thrashed and rocked, and screamed.

Instead of being finished Peter pulled her from his body before her orgasm was complete and half pushing half stumbling himself he shoved her towards the bed a few feet away.

Olivia blindly tripped and stumbled, her limbs barely following her commands, the only thing she could think about was the heat coursing through her veins. The wet empty throbbing that now existed between her legs.

Jesus, she felt so empty…she needed more…she needed Peter to fill her again…she must have said something to this effect, Olivia reasoned; or maybe Peter was just feeling the same unbearable urges that she was...

Olivia didn't really care so long as he fucked her again. So long as he drove that hot thick cock into her and slammed into her until she couldn't breathe, until she was coming so hard she was seeing little red and white starbursts behind her eyes and she wasn't sure if she would passed out.

Olivia couldn't wait any longer, she couldn't…She was fumbling…trying to get up, trying to fix this…to fulfill her need as she stumbled into the bed landing face down in the mattress.

She felt Peter grab her hips and pull her back against him. Yanking her to her knees, Olivia felt him press against her again. She moaned and pressed back as that glorious aching subsided again as he slide into her. Drawing back and then driving all the way home.

Olivia fisted her hands in the comforter beneath her rocking her own hips back to meet Peter's.

But it wasn't enough.

God it seemed she would never get enough. Reaching up to grab the headboard, bracing herself against it Olivia tried once again to quell the ache that was building inside her. She drove herself back against Peter's body as he rammed is hips forward driving into her, making her scream. One hand on her hips pulling her towards him the other hand on her shoulder Peter seemed to be lost in the same mindless drive towards completion that she was. Grunting and digging his fingers into her; certain he would find bruises where he had touched her tomorrow.

Peter endeavored to do just as she was asking.

Olivia's breathy cries for harder and faster, interspaced with please and his name were driving him wild. He was pounding into her harder then he thought was possible and still she was begging for more.

Thrashing and twisting in his grip throwing herself backwards against him, bucking and screaming his name. When Peter finally felt his release on the verge of overtaking him he secured both her hips in his hands and drove into her like a mad man; as pleasure and pain seized through his body like boiling acid eating away at every nerve ending. Peter screamed her name as he poured into her pounding away in a blind possession.

Olivia's own release taking hold, she went rigid in his grasp taking each pounding assault with a screaming wave of pleasure, as pain followed quickly after. Burning along her limbs and bursting behind her eyes.

They both collapsed side by side in a sweat soaked heap, completely unconscious. Their breathing coming fast; but even.

FBI Offices

Agent Broyles was _not_ a happy Camper.

When he'd received the phone call in his office he had immediately voiced his objections to the person on the other line, but to no avail.

It seemed that this time, his teams fate at least for the time being was outside of his control.

Broyles scowled at the telephone, having already slammed the offending object back into its cradle he considered picking it up again just to throw it across the room.

Not that that would do him any good.

It seemed that two of his top Fringe Agents had gotten themselves contaminated at a experimental chemical warehouse…and now the CDC was regretful to inform him; seeing as how they had been thoroughly contaminated—with several substances; they were waiting out any possible cross reactions in separate holding blocks at the Center for Disease Control Research and Development office.

Pursing his lips as he recalled what exactly the agents had been exposed to…and knowing these particular agents in question it was a damn good thing they'd separated them when they did.

Especially considering the effects may take up to two weeks to wear off.

As put out as he was by having to do without two very essential team members, possibly for two whole weeks. Broyles could think of worse alternatives. At least they were safe and the damage would hopefully be minimal.

Broyles's Phone rang again.

It was a very nervous and utterly flustered sounding man at the CDC.

This time after he was informed of the NEW situation the phone did go flying across the room.

Writers brief, and often scatterbrained notes: HAHAHAHAHA I blame _this _raunchy stint of debauchery _Entirely_ on Mr. K.E.C. How dare you go out of town for a _week_! A _Week_! Do you SEE what you made me do!

Poor Peter, Poor Olivia! *cackles*

Imagine what I might write when he comes back…oh dear! D :

As always please review, loved it? hated it? Want _**MORE**_ of it? (Hey I did say two weeks…lol) There is totally a possibility of a bit more raunchy bunny action here…unless of course you guys are all bunnied out with this scenario? Hmmmm?

How about it my pretties? Should our dashingly dosed agents go another round? Heh. I mean I haven't actually dealt with any of Olivia's great big scary white room fears…I think Peter can handle it…how about you? : D

Oh, If I'm going to continue with another chapter; can anyone think of a fun and _naughty_ group of words to **replace** the normal initials for _**Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? PTSD**_. I'll use the best one(s) in my next Title!

(Peter Tries Sexual Domination? Lol) Have Fun!

Until next time ;)

-KEC


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own our favorite agents, the show would definitely have to broadcast from HBO or CinaMax if I did….possibly after 1am *snicker*

**Chapter Four**

_White-Room Reservations,_

_And Partner Persuasions._

Olivia woke slowly.

Her head pounded in time with each heartbeat, and her tongue felt thick and dry. Her throat ached like she'd been screaming at a concert or football game and every joint in her body felt liquid and loose—stretched and disjointed—like she'd been pulled apart at the seams and laced back together again with too much thread.

Struggling to raise her eyelids, Olivia winced at the overly bright room, she didn't remember falling asleep with the lights on….Olivia was having trouble remembering exactly how she'd gone to sleep at all.

Blinking to try and find some definition to the white blur she found herself in something in Olivia's brain finally snapped to attention.

Bolting up from the mattress Olivia took in the white room in panic….White floors…white walls…white door…white sheets.

White everything.

_OhGodNo_. The blood rushed in her ears. The edges of her vision hazed with red and black the clarity of the room's furniture and features swimming before her eyes.

When Olivia felt arms wrap around her body she flailed and screamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~FRINGE~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter woke with a start.

There was a wild animal in his room. Peter bolted upright intent on finding out where it was, and how to get it out of the house before Walter found it and tried to catch it himself…or God forbid attempted to contain it so he could keep it as a pet.

Peter ascertained quite quickly after sitting up several disturbing things.

One being that He was naked…Peter never slept naked…Walter slept naked…Walter made breakfast naked…and did jumping jacks naked…a truly frightful sight in the wee hours.

Two that Peter was _not _in his room….he was in a white room he did not immediately recognize.

Peter's brain feeling particularly thick and sluggish at the moment refused to offer up an explanation for his current location…his mouth and throat felt like he'd been chugging hard liquor though Peter couldn't remember drinking anything.

And Third, and most importantly, Peter discovered the keening screech that had awoken him so suddenly was not as it turned out an animal at all….it was Olivia.

Rocking back and forth beside him on the bed, her hands fisted in her hair, Huge tears running down her face. As Peter brought his focus to bear on her he realized that she was actually formulating words, though she was so distraught it was difficult to catch them all.

"No more tests, please, let me go, ohgodplease, let me out of here! I don't belong here I have to go home!"

Peter unable to stand the sight of Olivia in such pain did the only thing he could think of in his bewildered state. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight when she started thrashing against him, intent it seemed to fight him off as if he were going to hurt her.

**~*~*~*~Fringe~*~*~*~*~**

Slowly Olivia became aware that the person holding her was not trying to drag her out the door…and had yet to stick her with needles or strap her down to anything. Instead the person was murmuring soothing words to her and rocking her gently back and forth. As the haze in her brain slowly receded Olivia was able to concentrate on what was being said and realized it was Peter.

Peter; she was hallucinating Peter again.

Was she still trapped then on the other side?

Had she never actually escaped?

Olivia struggled to turn in his arms, after a few moments he loosened his hold allowing her to twist and face him. Olivia brought her hands up to his face.

"Are you real? Please tell me I'm not dreaming this."

He shook his head. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

Olivia's breath left her in a rush. Never once had her hallucination Peter insisted that he was real; he had only told her over and over that she didn't belong where she was.

Olivia let her body relax against Peter's chest, melting into him the fingers on one hand curled around his arm as the other came up to rest by her chin, unable to stop her eyes from darting around the room once more.

Taking it all in.

It was like a nightmare come back to torture her in her waking hours.

Too many nights since Olivia's return she'd woken screaming, sheets soaked with sweat certain that when she opened her eyes she'd be still locked in that room. Certain that guards would be storming through her bedroom door ready to drag her out and stick her with needles and tubes and wires; that they would cut her and inhumanely write their notes while she cried and screamed. Begging and pleading for mercy to deaf ears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Peter's arms were around her again, holding her close to his chest, his chin rested on her hair. Olivia could feel his heartbeat under her ear, she closed her eyes and listened to its steady thrum.

She could smell this close to his skin the definite scent of Peter, and some kind of soap…not the usual Peter soap…something different.

Government issue soap Olivia remembered suddenly.

CDC soap.

Olivia felt herself relax further.

Peter was here with her, she was not trapped on the other side still, no one was coming to hurt her and experiment on her…no one was going to cut out her organs or her brain.

Olivia's heart stuttered as she remembered what else had happened since they had arrived at the CDC.

"Olivia?" Peter's voice was gentle. "What happened on the other side? My father…did he hurt you?"

Olivia felt her head nod against his chest unable to form the words.

"Please tell me Olivia, if you can…I need to know…"

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut blocking out the white wall and nightstand. This may not be the room on the other side, but the glaring white everywhere she looked was making her heart race.

"They locked me up."

Peter's fingers smoothed down her back trying to soothe her, trying to reassure her with his presence. He held her close hoping to communicate through his touch his unwavering support-she could tell him anything; he was real, he was here with her and he was not going anywhere without her.

"They left me in this white room forever…it felt like months or years…no one spoke to me, or brought me food…there was no clock or window, no way to tell day from night or hours from minutes…I just laid there thinking about how I had to get away, how I had to escape, how someone would come for me…realize I was missing...but no one came."

Peter tightened his hold on her. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head it was all he could do to comfort her in the aftermath.

He hadn't come for her. He hadn't realized she was missing.

He was a fool.

"Then they started showing up at random, dragging me down the hallway to these different rooms. They'd strap me down, inject me with drugs or chemicals. It made me feel awful, I kept asking them to let me go, asking what they were trying to do. But no one would speak to me or look at me…It was like I didn't exist, I wasn't human…I was a lab rat…"

"They were experimenting on you?" Peter felt the anger rolling off him in waves. He hoped he wasn't shaking; he needed to comfort her right now; help her to process the trauma she'd lived through.

He could Punch holes in the walls and screaming obscenities at his absent father later.

"Eventually one of them told me what they were doing…They were injecting me somehow with her memories…the…" She stumbled over the name "the…other Olivia Dunham's persona…they were trying to turn me into her…use me on their side to find out what I could do…to learn how we crossed over to get you back."

Peter felt his breath leave him in a rush, hearing this; what they had done to her while he was unaware—when he had unknowingly abandoned her on the other side was like a punch to the gut. It was the same stomach-sick feeling he'd first encountered when he'd realized the truth.

"It wasn't working though and the injections were getting worse and worse. They kept mentioning that each time they might kill me. I had to get away. I managed to escape…I made it out of the building…I had to swim from Elis Island to the shore…I was so tired..so weak…I thought I was going to drown…but I had to get free, I knew they were going to kill me it was only a matter of time and anything would be better then what they were doing to me…I made it finally and I tried to find someone who could help me. Someone who might believe me…But while I was running away from them…things started to get confusing…and somehow the injections they were giving me…they started to take effect…I couldn't remember what was real and what wasn't…I started to believe it. They had my own mother tell me that I was her…my mother is dead…but there she was…hugging me and telling me that I was confused."

Peter felt her tears hit his chest. "I thought I was her. I thought my whole life, my real life had been a hallucination…a result of some traumatic event they wouldn't tell me about…I forgot about Rachel and Ella and Walter and Astrid and You….God I forgot about you." Her fingers tightened around his bicep like she was afraid he would disappear again. That if she let go he would slip away into some figment of her imagination.

"But then I saw you…God I saw you everywhere…I didn't tell them…I thought I was losing my mind, I didn't want them to know…I was afraid that they would do something to me...though I didn't know what. I knew you….but I didn't…everything was all wrong. I had conversations with you in my head…I thought I was going insane I tried to ignore you but you wouldn't go away…you kept telling me things…facts that I couldn't know…that I shouldn't know if I were truly their Olivia. And it all became Chaos again…I didn't know what was real or who to believe…And then your Father came to me at Fringe."

Peter stiffened. What the hell else could that bastard have done to her? Wasn't it bad enough already?

"He wanted to try some experiments, with my permission he said…but I knew, I knew he didn't really mean that…I had to play along…and when they started trying to get me to cross over to the other side I thought maybe I could cross over and not come back…I could get away, come back to you…but it wasn't working…I couldn't stay I kept getting pulled back to the other side no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it."

"When they realized that I knew who I was again." She paused taking a deep breath. "They put me back in that white room, and they came to get me…Your father's scientist on the other side…he was going to cut me into pieces…he wanted to study my organs and my brain…I was laying there awake…strapped down and they were going to cut me open and pull me apart and that's when Broyles stopped them…" She was sobbing again.

"He helped you escape." The next time Peter saw the man…even if it was his double he was going to kiss him.

Olivia nodded. "He helped me escape, got me back to Walter's original lab on the other side…he helped me come back across…and they killed him for it. It's my fault he's dead…he had a wife…and a son…and they're alone because of me." Olivia dissolved into tears, her breath coming in tightly hitched sobs eyes squeezed tight against the memories the images as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

Peter held her while she cried wrapping his arms as tightly around her body as he could, holding her to him, trying to hold together the fragile beautiful woman he loved while she battled her grief and pain.

Peter could never have imagined even in his worst nightmares the extent of suffering and torture she had lived through. That she had survived and was able to function on any level let alone to the extent that she was able to return to work, and try to patch up the friendship they had shared was a miracle.

That she could look at Walter who looked so much like the man that had ordered her murder without breaking down into hysterical fits was amazing.

He marveled at how she had been holding all of this inside. The pain she had endured while on the other side, added to the stress and emotional turmoil that had consumed them both with the nightmare he'd unwittingly created for both of them upon her return; but none of it had destroyed her.

She'd taken it all in; she'd adapted and grown stronger; she was stronger than anyone Peter had ever known.

She had survived it all…but it was taking its toll on her slowly, it was taking its toll on them. Now that he knew the truth he wouldn't let her bear it alone, he wouldn't leave her again.

Peter held her tight, until the crying stopped, and her breathing slowed to a normal rhythm.

Until her body relaxed against his frame and her fingers loosened their death grip on his arm, Olivia had drifted off to sleep again and so did Peter for a while.

~*~*~*~*~*~Fringe~*~*~*~*~*~

More to come, Promise! And that chapter will be much smuttier! :)


End file.
